


When All Is Said And Done

by WithoutBringingMeDreams



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: #tbc, M/M, Post 1x10, more on the angsty than everything is roses side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:53:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8929012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithoutBringingMeDreams/pseuds/WithoutBringingMeDreams
Summary: post 1x10 fic (before the 1 month time jump).Lukas finds out about Phillip's mother. How will he handle the guilt?Complete





	1. 1

“I’m just so glad you’re here. You’re here and you’re okay.” Lukas’ father squeezes his hand from his seat beside the hospital bed. “Everything…everything else we can figure out later, okay son?”

Lukas blinks and swallows. Maybe it’s true. Maybe everything will be better now? The killer is dead. He’s safe. Phillip’s safe. His father is here, finally… but would his words be more convincing if they didn’t reek of alcohol? It’s strong enough to be overpowering the antiseptic smell of the hospital.

“Okay, Lukas?”

“Okay, Dad,” he answers automatically. But it’s just more words. Besides, what is there to _figure out_? Maybe his father might learn to accept him eventually, but it’ll still never be what he _wanted_ from a son. From his life.

_Widower with a gay son._

The door to the room creaks open, and Gabe’s solid form stands in the frame. He seems less commanding than usual, though, with bloodshot, puffy eyes. Not that Lukas is judging. It’s been one hell of a messed up day. “Bo…could the boys have a moment alone?”

His father frowns. “They just saw each other in the ambulance. I don’t really think—“

“Bo,” Gabe says sternly. “Phillip needs to talk.”

The words trigger something odd in his father and his face goes blank. “Oh. Right.” He glances at Lukas briefly as he stands up before darting his gaze away. “I’ll be right outside, then.”

He and Gabe leave, and Lukas stares impatiently at the door. He could really use Phillip right about now. Things happened the way they happened and of course he doesn’t blame Phillip, but this whole… _process_  isn’t something he wanted, either. Awkward, stiff conversations with his father, and oh, shit, there’s still Rose to talk to, who may or may not be blabbing his personal life to everyone he knows…

Phillip enters. His face is wet and red and he’s clutching himself, nearly bent in half like he’s in pain.

Thoughts of Rose and his father evaporate. “Phillip? What…what is it? What’s wrong?”

_The killer hadn’t gotten him. He wasn’t hurt. He was fine. He’s fine!_

But Phillip doesn’t speak. He lets out a ragged, sobbing, breath, and crawls into the bed beside him.

“Phillip, you’re scaring me. What is it?”

Phillip snakes an arm around Lukas’ waist and buries his head in his good shoulder. He doesn’t stop shaking or crying.

“Phillip, please, please talk to me.” Lukas’ voice is thick now, too. He’s exhausted and his head is spinning, maybe from the medication or the blood loss, and now Phillip is flipping out and there’s only so much he can do to hold himself together before he’s a crying mess, too.

Phillip finally opens his mouth to speak, and it makes his chest spasm against Lukas’ as he fights to hold back the sobs. “He killed her.”

“What?” That couldn’t be right. Those words…made no sense.

_Please, God, no more killing. No more. It’s over!_

“M-my mom.” Phillip chokes on the words and they come out in a whimper. “My m-om is dead.”

The bullet wound is in Lukas’ shoulder, but an identical one rips into his heart and stops his breath.

_My mom is dead._

Heard that before, hadn’t he?

“No.” The word becomes a long moan. “No, no.”

Phillip just shakes his head and clutches him again, letting loose his tears onto Lukas’ bare skin.

_No._

_Phillip’s mother._

_Phillip’s mother is dead._

_And you killed her._

With Phillip’s face shielded against his body, Lukas reaches up and rips the bandage off his wound.


	2. 2

The pain is sharp and startling, but it only lasts a few seconds. Not long enough before the torture begins again.

_She died because of you._

_You took away his mother._

He turns his head, scraping his chin along Phillip’s hair, expecting—maybe hoping—to see a pool of blood seeping out of him. But the wound is stitched and completely dry.

_Fuck._

Phillip’s body finally stops twitching. He takes a few snuffling breaths against Lukas’ skin, which is hot and clammy now, before quieting. He says nothing, and Lukas says nothing.

There’s nothing to say.

Why is Phillip even here? How could he not realize? Why would he want to be anywhere near Lukas?

_You killed her._

It isn’t Anne Shea’s face that leaps into his mind. It’s a fuzzy halo of brown curls, a soft, heart-shaped face with always-perfect eyebrows. The rest of the features are a little blurry—they only really come into focus when he looks at a photograph. And there are never many of those lying around.

It’s his mother, gone, dead, buried on a hot summer day while he stands stiffly in his nice church clothes, next to his father who won’t even look at him.

And how selfish can he really fucking be?

_Phillip’s mother was murdered._

His arm grows sore where it rests under Phillip. He can’t see any clock near him, so it could be a few minutes passing, or forever. Caught in a loop, he tumbles through memories of his own mother again until he slams right up against the same wall. 

_You killed her._

Helen walks into the room after what may be hours. He nearly jerks up, he’s so relieved, until the guilt that he could actually be fucking _relieved_ someone else is here to handle Phillip hits him in the stomach. He clenches his jaw so he won’t puke.

“Phillip?” she says softly, laying a hand on his back. “Let’s get you home, okay?” 

Phillip finally shifts his head out the darkness he’d cocooned into—basically Lukas’ chest and armpit. “I want to stay here.”

  _Why?_

“I know you do, but Lukas needs to rest. And Bo needs some time with him, too. We’ll come right back tomorrow morning, okay?”

“I want to stay here,” Phillip repeats.

“Phillip.” She manages to free one of Phillip’s arms from around Lukas, and she gently entwines their fingers. “You need to sleep, too. Sleep and wake up and keep going, you know? One day at a time. We will get through this together. All of us.” She casts a watery smile at Lukas.

Lukas blinks back, but he can’t process her kindness. Maybe it’s just an act for Phillip’s sake? 

_You killed her._

Phillip eventually shifts off the bed after one last hug. Lukas isn’t sure his body responds to it, but the bullet wound probably gets him out of most physical requirements right now.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Phillip mumbles, voice hoarse from all the crying. 

Lukas nods. And then it’s his turn to speak. _Fucking speak._

He cracks his lips open, and his tongue tastes the sterile hospital air. His mouth grows dry because he’s taking _too fucking long._ Phillip is waiting, staring. 

“Phillip, I…” he forces out, but that’s all. Nothing else will come.

“I know,” Phillip says. He tucks himself against Helen, and she rubs his back as she leads him away.


	3. 3

Lukas awakes to the perfect storm—his father, Rose, and Phillip seated all around him in tense silence.

He rubs his fist across his eyes, buying time for his mind to focus. It’s a slosh through fuzzy thoughts with all the pain meds still in him, but eventually reality locks back into place.

And oh, he fucking wishes it hadn’t.

Phillip has a grip on the corner of his sheet and is twisting it around in his fingers. He inches down toward Lukas’ hand like he means to grab it, but stops short.

“We’re so glad you’re feeling better,” Rose chimes in.

Lukas’ father grunts under his breath, as his eyes have apparently landed on Phillip’s sneaky hand. There’s no mistaking the reproach, or the sidelong glance at Rose.

“She already knows,” Phillip mutters.

Rose’s cheeks go pink. “Um, I can give you guys some time alone. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you, Lukas. And that…you know. Um, I’m not gonna talk about stuff that isn’t my business.”

She stands abruptly, chair scraping against the tile floor, but he manages to snatch her wrist before she can get away. _Why is it still so easy to reach out to Rose when Phillip’s the one he should…_ “N-no, it’s okay. You can stay. We can um, watch TV or something?”

_Don’t leave me alone._

Not with his Dad…or with Phillip.

Thank God, one of his problems decides to remove itself. His father pats his shoulder a little too forcefully before he strides out, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched.

“Everything okay with him?” Rose asks.

“It’s…” he begins, then shakes his head. No point in lying about anything anymore. “It is what it is.”

“And…are you okay, Phillip?” her voice grows quieter as she turns her attention to him, and it forces Lukas that way, too. Forces him to really _look_ at what he’s done.

Phillip’s eyelids are still puffy, but all around them are deep hollows of darkness. He’s ashen pale and his normally defined cheekbones now just make him seem gaunt.

How the _fuck_ can Phillip sit here making small talk with the person who’s responsible for all of this hell?

A burning sensation makes its way up from Lukas’ chest. It’s not tears. It’s a scream he manages to trap in his throat only because he’s so practiced at it. Nothing should be happening the way it is, and yet it all just keeps rolling along—Rose caring about him after the way he treated her, and Phillip sat by his bedside after…

Phillip rises and leans over the bed. “Hey, you guys can watch TV or whatever but I just…um, I couldn’t sleep last night. Would you mind if I took a nap? The noise won’t bother me.”

“Oh, yeah, of course not,” Rose answers immediately.

It takes Lukas several more seconds to realize he means nap _in the bed_. With Rose watching.

_You were inside him the other day, and now you don’t want him next to you?_

_But why does he_ want _to be next to you?_

Moments with Phillip used to be so _real_. Everything they did together just came naturally, like nothing had ever come to Lukas, except maybe for riding his bike. But as far as relating to another human being? This was a first. An only. 

Kissing. Hugging. Holding hands. Cuddling. Sex. All on instinct.

Now, though, Lukas has to dredge up his old skills of going-through-the-motions. Phillip shouldn’t be here, but he is. He shouldn’t want Lukas, but he does.

Rose makes a throat-clearing noise. “Oh, yeah.” Lukas scoots as far over as he can to make room. Phillip carves himself a tight space, lying on his side and not really connecting with Lukas. He scrunches up half the pillow under one arm and closes his eyes.

Rose takes control—nothing new there—and grabs the remote. She settles on some daytime game show with flashing lights and ringing bells. Should be harmless enough.

_Thanks for playing, Lukas! Better luck next time at not fucking it all up! At least you have your consolation prizes. A terrible relationship with your dad, an ex-girlfriend, and the boy who’s gonna leave you as soon as he realizes the only thing you ever did for him was destroy his life._

“What was it like?” Rose asks at a commercial break.

Lukas tears his eyes away from the screen—not that he’s really been watching, but it’s as good a place as any to stare at blankly. No explanation comes to him. Just pictures of reality mixed with nightmares, of dead bodies and blood and duct tape and that man’s stubble-framed face.

He grits his teeth against the rising bile and breathes deeply through his nose.

“Sorry,” Rose offers after a moment. “Dumb question, I guess.”

“No,” he coughs out softly. “Maybe I’ll be able to talk about it more…after.” He probably should be talking to her, but not about this. The last time they really spoke he was breaking up with her, and she was leaving in tears.

“Sure.” She nods, and her gaze drifts from him to the now-sleeping Phillip.

Lukas isn’t ready to look at Phillip again. But he does have to say something. “Listen, Rose, about…about everything…I just wanted to tell you… I’m sorry. I was kinda an ass—“

“Kinda?” She arches a brow.

“Okay, I _was_ an ass.”

She giggles. “Yeah, okay, there were a few clues I could’ve followed up on. But whatever. It’s in the past now.”

Seriously? It isn’t possible for everyone in his life to forgive him. It just _isn’t possible_. One of the people he’s let down so fucking thoroughly is going to have to hate him forever.

His money is still on Phillip.

Rose smiles as she watches Phillip sleep. “You two are really cute together.”

 _That_ strikes him as so wrong it makes his whole body spasm. He must have an equally disturbed expression on his face because Rose laughs.

“Relax. I meant what I said. I won’t tell anyone. And um, you know, if you wanted…” She hesitates, biting the corner of her full lower lip. “I could like, be your cover.”

He frowns as her offer sinks in. Use her again, but this time with permission?

_So how’s this gonna work?_

_What?_

_Us._

Phillip mumbles something unintelligible, drawing his focus. He’s still asleep, and thank God he looks so much more peaceful that way. Sleep is probably the only peace he has.

Lukas’ mom used to sing him a lullaby before bed. After she was gone, he just lay there, trying to remember the words. Praying he’d fall asleep so he wouldn’t have to miss her so much. Sleep never came when he needed it the most.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Rose adds. “Then no one will bug you guys.”

_You gonna tell people?_

_Are you?_

Phillip’s dark hair has spread out on the pillow. He wants to run his fingers through it. But of course he fucking doesn’t. Rose is in the room.

_I’ll do whatever you want._

That’s Phillip. Always doing what everyone else wants. Letting Lukas walk all over him. Because none of this— _none of this_ —could really be what he wanted.

His chest burns again, and it’s several seconds before he remembers to draw breath. He couldn’t bear to look at Phillip before, but now he can’t tear his eyes away. Every twitch of Phillip’s lashes, every slight wiggle of his lips, every soft sigh. All of it making the fire inside Lukas burn faster, hotter, until it might as well leave a pile of dark ashes in his crisp hospital bed sheets.

“Thanks, Rose,” he manages to grind out past the flames, and he honestly has no fucking clue what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I was out of town for the holidays.


	4. 4

Lukas’ phone vibrates just as he steps onto his front porch. Third text from Phillip in the last hour, probably fiftieth in the last couple days. He pauses just long enough to shoot off a response— _home now_ —before hurrying to catch up to his father.

“That Phillip?” his father asks, head jerking toward the phone still in Lukas’ hand.

“Um, yeah.”

His father nods slowly as they enter the kitchen, running a hand over his gray stubble. Hopefully he’ll shave it soon, now that the last few days of insanity are over. At least it isn’t black.

“Are you…making plans? To uh, hang out, I mean.”

Normal words with his father are strained, but words that have to do with _Phillip_ take on a whole new level of awkward.

Lukas shrugs. “I dunno. I’m kinda tired still. Might just rest up for school tomorrow.”

His father’s shoulders sag—probably in relief. “That’s a good idea, son.” He sets down the little pharmacy bag containing the painkillers on the kitchen island.

Lukas edges up to the counter as casually as he can, snatches the bag when his dad’s back is turned, and stuffs it in his coat pocket. They’re his pills, anyways.

He’s almost to the stairs, to freedom, when his father speaks again. “Lukas?”

“Yeah?” He backtracks to the kitchen, but just to the entranceway. His father is leaning over the kitchen sink and staring out the window. There are plain white blinds on it now, but the faded once-yellow curtains his mother had picked out still flutter in his memory.

“You know, sometimes in the heat of the moment, we make decisions that…that seem right at the time.”

_Like decisions that lead to people being killed?_

He forgets to respond, but his father goes on anyhow.

“What I’m saying is, don’t feel like you have to continue the rest of your life based on those decisions. You can…you can still choose different things.”

“What?” He blurts the word out loud, on accident. He’s made so, so many stupid decisions lately, but he can’t just _choose_ to undo them. He can’t bring Anne Shea back to life.

His father sighs, then reaches for the liquor cabinet. “Go up and rest, Lukas.”

Don’t have to tell him twice. He spins around and takes the stairs two at a time. He also takes the pain meds two at a time, washing them back with only his spit. He’s been in a bed for so fucking long, but there’s no place else to go, so he collapses into his and waits for the numbness to come.

His phone buzzes again. It’s Phillip, asking if he can come over.

 _Nah, my dad’s kinda got me on house arrest. Maybe tomorrow_ , he answers.

 _Sure,_ is Phillip’s quick response, meaning he’s sitting there with his phone in his hand, just waiting to hear from Lukas. _But I won’t be at school._

No one could blame Phillip if he never showed his face at school again.

School isn’t actually first on Lukas’ list of priorities, either. But the only thing worse than facing that shitshow would be staying at home. Tiptoeing around his father, avoiding being in the same room at the same time. Probably watching him get drunk, and when he just couldn’t find a way out, having to actually _talk._  

Like anything his father says even makes sense.

If Phillip _were_ here, he’d feel stronger, probably. More capable of dealing with his dad, more alert to face whatever rumors the kids at school have drummed up from all the news coverage.

Strange, how in the beginning, liking Phillip seemed like it’d be a weakness. Like it’d take any power he ever pretended to have. But then he’d held Phillip in his arms after telling, well, at least part of the truth to Helen, and all he’d felt was support. Just one hundred percent there-for-him, unwavering, unconditional support. Where else on earth could you get that feeling?

He finds a picture of Phillip on his phone. Bright eyes and smiling. Phillip _before_. He traces the outline of his face and silently mouths his name. _Phillip_. The world is getting sluggish, or maybe that’s his brain, and his stomach sure as hell hurts but not really in the _love_ way Phillip talked about.

If _now_ Phillip has any strength left to give, Lukas doesn’t deserve it.


	5. 5

_Good luck_ , his phone reads. The latest from Phillip, as Lukas parks his bike in the school lot. There’s already a group of people waiting for him, but at least Rose is with them.

He answers with _thanks_ , and at this point he might as well be carrying on a relationship with a text screen.

“Yo, man, lone survivor!” Eric throws up his hand for a high five, and Lukas accepts it out of habit before the words sink in.

He’s _not_ the lone survivor and actually, he shouldn’t even have been the one to survive at all. Yet here he is, at school, able to step right back into his life like nothing happened. He gets off scot-free, minus one small scar from a bullet.

 _Fuck._ He feels for one of the painkillers in his pocket and ducks his head down to pop it in.

“Gotta get to class early, man. Got a lot to catch up on.” He makes it clear he means _now_ as he barrels straight through everyone.

“I’m sure all the teachers will go easy on you. I mean, you’re like a local celebrity,” Simone says by his side as she scrambles to keep up. She even puts her hand on his arm and smiles up at him with that whole _eyelashes_ thing. “You should totally milk it.”

“Oh, um…” What he _should’ve_ done is brought more than the three measly pills in his pocket.

Rose is an angel. She actually removes Simone’s clingy arm before linking her own with his. “Lukas and I have some things to talk about.” She casts a meaningful glance at Simone in particular. “Catch up with you guys later.”

Then she pulls him away, until they find some privacy in the empty science hallway and he can finally have a moment to just _breathe_. He sinks back against a row of lockers.

“Bitch. We’re barely broken up and she’s already got her talons into you.” Rose folds her arms and scowls and it almost, almost makes him laugh. If he even remembers how to do that.

But at least the pill will kick in soon, and it helps him float above it all, for a little while. “Thought she was seeing Ray?”

“Nah, that was over a week ago.” She leans beside him and rests her head on his shoulder. Once, that would have put him on high alert, either in _how-do-I-stop-this-before-it-goes-further mode_ , or the worse, _how-do-I-use-this-to-my-advantage_ setting where he’d scan the halls and see if the right people were watching.

Disgusting.

Now, he lets his head fall on hers and just sighs. “This is gonna be a long day.”

“I know.” Her nod jostles his hair. “How’s Phillip?”

“He’s…okay, I guess.”

 _Is he?_ How would he even really know?

Rose pulls away, but links their hands as she turns to face him. “Have you given any thought to what I said before? It’s not like Simone is gonna stop coming. Or other girls, for that matter.”

His stomach, a near-empty pit of black coffee and pills, twists and sinks a little lower. “I … really don’t know what to do.”

Shit that’s honest. Most honest thing he’s said in forever.

Rose rubs his hand. And it’s the _wrong_ hand on his, but it still feels nice. Maybe he actually can get through the day with just two more pills and her help.

A crowd rounds the corner to their sanctuary. “Oh my god, Lukas!”

Two girls and their motorcross-wannabe boyfriends rush over to him. “We have like three minutes until homeroom and you’ve just gotta show us the scar!”

He blinks at Melinda Miller, the smallest girl of the group and the one leading the charge. A chorus of _scars are hot_ and _fuckin’ crazy, man_ echo behind her.

Rose pulls her hand loose right away, but steps in front of him, converting from angel into pit bull. “He almost died, guys. It’s not exactly like something to be celebrating. Have some respect.”

“But he didn’t die, did he. And that _is_ worth celebrating,” Melinda shoots back with a fake lip-glossed smile.

 _Cookie-cutter girl_ , Rose had called her once. Rose had never been part of their crowd, exactly. Not until they’d started dating. Maybe she’s got a point about those talons.

“Yeah, man,” Jake, Melinda’s boyfriend, adds. “You’re really fuckin’ lucky. Hey, I heard he took the sheriff’s druggie foster kid, too? Why’d he do that?”

Lukas’ body reacts before his brain catches up, propelling him from his reclined position on the lockers to straight up and at attention. _Don’t talk about him._

Rose edges closer, eying him warily. “Because he’s the sheriff’s kid, obviously. He probably thought it was good…leverage, or whatever.”

“Hm. Too bad. If it’d been one of us he’d taken instead of that pussy, we wouldn’t have had to wait to be rescued. We woulda come up with a plan to take that motherfucker out!”

Jake turns to receive a fist bump from Carter behind him, but their hands don’t connect.

Instead, Lukas connects his fist with Jake’s face.

“Lukas, no!” Rose shouts, but he’s already leapt forward while swinging his leg out, tripping Jake and toppling him to the floor.

So much for the pills and so much for the numbness. He pins Jake to the ground and swings again and again, each punch more wildly satisfying. _Yes. Yes. Yes._

Weak arms grab him from all sides, trying to pry him off. “Oh my God Lukas, what the fuck! Stop!”

He doesn’t want to stop. He _can’t_ stop. The rush is amazing; best thing he’s felt— _only_ thing he’s felt besides all the fucking guilt—in ages. Like the wind in his hair while he soars through a jump on his bike. Fucking _freedom._

_You can’t talk about Phillip like that._

Carter gets him in a chokehold from behind and finally yanks him away, but by then _the adults_ are there, so his air supply isn’t cut off for very long. He sucks in a deep breath as Rose helps him to his feet. She keeps a firm grip on both his arms like she’s planning to stop him if he suddenly lunges again.

Jake lies moaning on the floor, a trail of blood seeping out his nose.

_Oh, shit._

“Everyone, my office, _now_ ,” the principal announces at full volume. He probably practices that line at home.

So much for the first day back at school.


	6. 6

“And what the hell is this?” his father spits, shaking the pill bottle in his face. “You think I don’t know how to count? So, what, you’re gonna be a drug addict now?”

His hand moves fast—too fast—and Lukas cowers against the kitchen cabinet. Same cabinet for all these years, because his father doesn’t like to _air dirty laundry_ , so they’ve had a hundred arguments in this exact spot, right after he steps into the kitchen. It may have been a while since it’s actually come to blows, but that doesn’t stop the muscle memory.

He’s not the target. The pill bottle pops open as it slams into the wall behind him, scattering what’s left of the little white pills onto the floor. Without thinking, he crouches to try to pick them up.

His father grabs him by the shirt collar and hauls him to his feet. He flinches again—it’s just too ingrained a habit.

“No, you leave it. You’ll take the pain like man from now on, understand?”

Lukas nods, his face still turned away. “Yes, Dad.”

“You keep taking too many, and it’ll mess you up.”

“Yes, Dad,” he repeats.

There’s a hint of scotch on his father’s breath but it’s not too strong, thank God. He kind of expected worse after earning himself a three-day suspension for that fight at school.

His father’s grip on him loosens, and he blinks rapidly like he can’t quite remember how he got his son pressed up against the kitchen counter. He straightens out Lukas’ shirt, smoothing it along his shoulders, and takes a step back. “Just…trust me, son. It’s not the answer, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.”

“And I know you’ve been through something really tough, but the best thing to do is to forget all about that and move forward.”

Lukas scoffs quietly, but not quietly enough.

“Don’t let it define you, Lukas. We may have lost one sponsor because…the timing wasn’t right, but there’ll be others. You’ve got the talent and they’re going to want you. But only if you can get your act together at school.”

“I…I will.” Except what is his _act_ supposed to be? And what the hell _does_ define him? He’s just offering up the right words and buying himself time to keep fucking things up.

There’s enough room for him to squeeze past his father now, and he heads for the door. “I’m gonna go do my chores.”

His father crosses his arms. “Then it’s up to your room.”

“Yes, Dad.”

His mom always asked him to _behave_ for his dad, who worked so hard for their family. And he really has tried. He’s tried _being respectful_ and _living up to expectations_ , but he’s never quite been good enough at anything. Motorcross was the one thing he excelled at, the one thing his father could latch onto and be proud of, too.

He pauses at the screen door and looks back over his shoulder. His father is still standing there, lost in thought. He should really shut up and leave while he can.

But he opens his big mouth anyway. “Would…would they still want me if they knew? The sponsors, I mean.”

His father frowns. “Know? Know about what?”

Good question. Know he makes stupid, chicken shit decisions that lead to people getting killed, or that he’s...gay?

“Um…I…”

“People don’t have to know your business, Lukas. There are things you can, and maybe should keep to yourself.”

He gets a long stare from his father, probably meant to communicate all the awkward words Bo Waldenbeck would never say aloud.

“Yeah. Okay.” Lukas shoves a clenched hand in his pocket as he lets the screen door fall shut behind him. He holds the fist tight until he’s safely in the barn and he’s sure his father’s footsteps haven’t followed.

When it’s just the hen clucks and the rustling leaves around him, he opens his palm. Only two pills sit there—he wasn’t sure how many he was able to grab before his father stopped him. Three would’ve been better.

_Forget all about it and move forward._

But he’s not moving forward at all. He’s pretty much standing exactly in place. There’s no _looking to the future_ right now. There’s just this couple of minutes, and then the next.

He takes the last two pills.


	7. 7

A car door slams outside, waking Lukas up. He’s lying on his bed, over the covers, and staring at a dark ceiling, so the sun must’ve set since he peeled off his dirty clothes and flung himself down on the mattress.

No reason to get up now. But then the door downstairs creaks open, and voices start to filter through what’s left of the drug-aided sleep.

A woman’s voice. _Helen’s._

Lukas’ chest locks in place, stopping the sound of his breath so he can hear more clearly. _Is Phillip with her?_

There’s a split in him, maybe straight down the middle. He _can’t_ see Phillip. Can’t face him. But he also _has_ to see him, if he’s here, has to grab him and hold on because he’s been falling so hard for so many days now and Phillip’s the only thing that can possibly stop him.

No one bounds up the stairs to greet him. It’s just Helen and his father down there…arguing.

He dresses quickly and crouches at the top of the stairs so he can catch what they’re saying.

“I understand the school handled it, Bo. What I’m telling you is that Jake Gardener’s parents called me and wanted to press charges for assault.”

“The boy was fine, Helen. Lukas apologized and the whole thing was settled in the principal’s office.”

“Well, not to Mrs. Gardener’s satisfaction. She’s concerned Jake may have a broken nose.”

“It’s just a little swelling.”

A glass clinks, and some liquid trickles into it. Not hard to guess what.

Helen sighs. “I’m here as friend.”

The glass leaves the countertop with a scraping noise, then is plunked back down. “To tell me what, you’re going to charge my son with assault? After everything he’s—“

“No, to tell you I think I talked her out of it! Obviously I can’t discuss anything about the case with her, but the news coverage gives everyone some idea. I explained he’s going through a difficult time right now, and that maybe going back to school so soon wasn’t the best idea.”

“He’ll be fine when the suspension is over.”

“Will he?”

Lukas backs up slightly from his spot by the railing. Maybe he shouldn’t be listening to this. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear what Helen has to say.

More glass clinking and pouring sounds follow in the pause.

“Bo, that’s not going to help,” Helen says quietly, so quietly he barely catches the words. His father doesn’t respond. “Listen, I know some great therapists he can talk to—”

“He doesn’t need a therapist, and he sure as hell doesn’t need to keep talking about all of this. That’s just going to keep dredging it up. He’ll be fine if he focuses on school and his…his normal life.”

“Burying your head in the sand doesn’t work for everyone,” Helen snaps, and her voice is much stronger now. God, the glare she must be getting from his father for that one.

“What I mean is,” she continues more calmly, “there’s a chance Lukas isn’t handling this like you think he is. Phillip told me after Lukas witnessed the shootings he wasn’t coping well at all. He was afraid Lukas might turn to drugs, or…or try to hurt himself.” She ends softly, the last words a strained whisper.

Instinct was right. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. Why be reminded of how weak and pathetic he really is?

His father scoffs loudly. “ _Phillip_ said that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that everything in Lukas’ life was fine until he showed up!”

The outburst flies out like something his father’s been holding back for a long time.

Not surprising, really. He didn’t like Phillip from day one. What exactly had his father been so afraid of?

“Jesus, Bo, Phillip didn’t cause any of those murders—”

“Not what I’m talking about—”

“Well you better not be implying Phillip turned Lukas gay!”

Lukas stumbles to his feet at Helen’s shout. _Run now._ But where to? He’s frozen there, blood turning to ice, waiting for whatever his father says next to hit and shatter him.

“I know that, Helen. I know…I know that’s not how it works.”

The soft resignation in his father’s voice is somehow worse than the blow he’s expecting.

“I know he’s my son and I know I need to accept this— _him_ —and I will.” The glass clatters into the sink. “But…that doesn’t mean it’s what I _wanted_ for him. No father would.”

And there it is. One quick slice, all the way to the bone. Everything confirmed. The world is just like he thought and he’s the trash no one really wants.

He races down the stairs and straight through Helen and his father, whose faces turn to him in shock and guilt.

“Lukas, son, I—”

“I’m going to see Phillip.” He doesn’t stop for a response.


	8. 8

Riding in the dark, the wind stinging his skin, the engine vibrating into his bones, manages to blank it all out. It’s just him and the bike, melding into one. _Freedom_. He pushes the speed further than he should, takes curves a little too sharply. Why the hell not?

Too soon, he’s at Helen and Gabe’s porch. He ditches the bike on its side and bolts up the steps. The front door is open and he doesn’t even wait to see if Gabe’s home, just barges straight in.

The blankness stays with him all the way up the stairs and right to Phillip’s bedroom door, where it all comes crashing down.

Phillip’s there, sitting cross-legged on his bed, an open laptop beside him. That’s new—must’ve been a fancy gift from Helen and Gabe.

Lukas grips the doorframe and draws in a ragged breath. What is he doing here?

“Lukas?” Phillip’s eyes light up. Fucking _light up_ , and they burn straight into him. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” he says smartly, but his mouth is dry and his voice cracks.

Phillip stands up and frowns as he comes close. “What’s wrong?”

Of course he’d know with just a word. He’d probably know without any words at all.

“What is it?” Phillip repeats. He gently takes Lukas’ hand and guides him toward the bed.

Phillip keeps playing with his fingers as they settle together against the headboard. Flipping them around, squeezing his fingertips, rubbing his knuckles. It’s kind of become their thing—ordinary handholding is just too simple.

And it makes Lukas smile. Somehow, even with the whole storm brewing in his head, Phillip’s touch still makes him smile.

“So what’s going on?” Phillip presses again. He’s too used to this game, to drawing Lukas from himself and making him talk.

“My…my dad.” But that’s just the edge of it, really. Just the top layer that conveniently smothers everything else beneath it, for now. “I told you he didn’t want me to be that guy.”

Phillip makes a sympathetic noise and turns so he can stroke Lukas’ arm while still holding his hand. “Did you have an argument?”

 _Not really._ An argument required two opposing sides. This was just…a fact.  “He doesn’t want a gay son.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Yeah, actually, I do.” Lukas turns to stare at him, a familiar irritation flaring. Phillip always thinks he knows it all—that Lukas’ fears are made up and only in his head. “He said it. He said it and he meant it.”

Phillip’s eyes mist over in pain and his face falls. “Shit, Lukas… I’m…I’m so sorry.” His hand wanders up to Lukas’ face and caresses it softly.

_Phillip is sorry._

Something scratches at Lukas’ throat, making it hard to breathe. He grabs his shirt collar and yanks it down. Why is it so tight around his neck?

“Maybe he just needs time?” Phillip continues. “Everything probably came at him so fast…not that it’s right for him to say that to you. It isn’t.”

Lukas nods, but it’s a jerking motion as the stupid shirt is still strangling him. And is it getting hot in there?

“But while he’s figuring it out, you know I’m here for you, right? And Gabe and Helen are pretty awesome about this. So it’s gonna be okay, you know?” Phillip ventures a smile. A small, quiet smile meant just for him.

Always supportive. Always _there for him_. While Lukas just…

Just does what? Takes it?

“Okay?” Phillip prods one more time, jostling Lukas’ hand with a little tug. His smile grows, highlighting his fucking amazing cheekbones. It’s those cheekbones that first caught Lukas, caught him and held him as he stared at the new kid in town messing around with a camera outside the local convenience store. The cheekbones that changed his life.

Shit, he needs to kiss Phillip _right now_.

But a flash of movement distracts him before he can act. It’s the laptop screen, cycling through a slideshow.

A slideshow of Anne Shea.

Younger Anne Shea, cheeks fuller and eyes less sunken, holding a little dark-haired boy in her lap. Laughing Anne Shea with a dollop of whip cream on her nose. Anne Shea and the boy again— _Phillip_ —posing on a merry-go-round. Thinner and older Anne Shea, arms and legs spread-eagle in a pile of colorful fall leaves. Anne Shea, Anne Shea, Anne Shea. Once alive, now just a photo stream on a laptop.

 _Because of him_. And what does he do? Take even more from Phillip.

He yanks at his shirt again but he still can’t pull in a whole breath. The screen circles back to the first picture, except it’s blurrier this time, and so is the laptop.

“Lukas?” Phillip’s worried face forces its way into his sight, and Lukas jerks back. “Are you okay?”

 _No. No, no, no._ He scrambles off the bed and away from Phillip’s _concern_.

“Lukas?”

“I c-can’t. I—I c-can’t do this.” Why does his voice sound like that? Too high-pitched, too many gasping breaths between the words.

“Can’t do what? What’re you talking about?” Phillip tries to follow, but Lukas draws back further, all the way to the doorway.

“I’m s-sorry b-but I c-can’t be what you want.” He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the dizziness closing in, making the world swim around him. He hasn’t had any of the meds in a while so it _can’t_ be that.

Phillip’s face hardens. “Are you…are you seriously breaking up with me right now?” On the last word, his voice cracks. Just the smallest amount, but enough. Enough to send everything into a full-on tailspin. The bedroom walls, the floor, the ceiling. Everything whirling and blurring, then fading into spots of white all over his vision.

“I’m s-sorry!” Lukas gasps out one last time before he turns and sprints away


	9. 9

He trips down the stairs, slamming up against the staircase for support. He can’t see properly and he can’t breathe, two things he’s pretty sure he needs to ride, so that just leaves running. Through the front door and into the night. Someone calls out to him, but it isn’t Phillip’s voice. He keeps going.

His chest is on fire. He won’t be able to get far like this. There’s nowhere to go, though, is there?  

It’s some kind of messed up instinct that has him at the barn a few seconds later. The last place he felt completely calm and _safe_. He scrambles up to the loft and clutches at handfuls of hay, waiting for the world to settle.

It doesn’t. There’s nothing safe about the place anymore. Before, he was Phillip’s hero. He’d just given Helen the gun, broken up with Rose, and he was here kissing Phillip like nothing else mattered. Like Phillip was _everything_.

Now, he’s destroyed Phillip. Destroyed himself, too.

“Lukas? Lukas!”

The sound of his name is muffled, because something else is much louder. It’s him, him panting for air that just won’t go into his lungs. How the hell has he forgotten how to breathe? Will he die from this? Could it all just…end?

“Lukas, look at me.”

The barn is shaking now, warped walls bouncing up and down. Or maybe he’s shaking. Or maybe someone is shaking him?

There’s pressure on his arms. Fingertips, squeezing into the muscle.

“Lukas, I need you to look at me.”

He’s on his knees. When did he fall? And he’s doubled over, but the hands are guiding him upright.

“Look at me.”

Freckles. So many freckles, blurring in front of him. Red hair, green eyes. _Helen_.

“That’s it, that’s it. Good job.”

Her face is lit by a flashlight, lying beside them in the hay. She’s smiling, but her eyes are wet.

“Okay, now we’re going to breathe together. Watch me. In…” Her mouth opens and her chest expands. “And out.” She blows faintly coffee-scented air onto his face.

He tries, but it’s just another gasp, suddenly so much louder in the quiet night.

“You’ve got this, keep going. In… and out. In… and out.”

Her hands move around to his upper back, where they rub in time with her words. “In and out. In and out. You can do it.”

The barn walls stop moving. Her freckles stop dancing. Blobs of hay sharpen into bales, and the world comes back into focus.

“That’s it. You’re okay.”

He doesn’t feel okay. More like he’s been flung off his bike mid-air and it landed on top of him.

“Do you think you can talk to me?” One of her hands travels to the back of his neck. She gives him a little squeeze, then pushes back a few strands of his hair. “Just try. It’ll get easier, I promise.”

It’ll get easier. _She’d_ said the same thing. Touched him the same way, even. Anne Shea was the last woman to stroke his hair like this, just the way a mother would.

Helen smiles at him again, gentle, encouraging, and all the tears he’s been holding back for God knows how long come pouring out like a freaking flood. _Can_ he speak? Can he actually say the words out loud? Won’t that make it…final?

Or maybe that’s just what he needs, for all of this to end.

Helen grabs a tissue from her pocket, but before she can raise it to his face, he manages to open his mouth.

“It’s m-my fault.”

Helen frowns. “What is, Lukas?”

“It’s my f-fault she’s d-dead.”

Shit, he’s really crying now, and it’s messing with his breathing again. Helen’s frown grows, drawing out creases between her brows. “Who?” She blinks. “You mean… Anne?”

The sob he lets out is his response. Helen doesn’t react—doesn’t comfort him or dry his tears like she’d been aiming to do a minute ago. _She knows the truth_.

But then her arms fly out and she grips his shoulders. Hard. “No. No, no, Lukas. No! He does not get to do that, you hear me? He does not get to put that on you.” Her voice trembles, but it’s still loud and strong. “The only one responsible for Anne Shea’s death is Kane, and that son of a bitch does not get to die and leave that on you. Do you understand?”

He can’t answer. He’s trying to find his breath again before the whole topsy-turvy world thing repeats itself.

She squeezes harder. “ _Do you understand?_ ”

Then she slams him into her chest, arms encircling him in a tight hug. “It’s not your fault, Lukas. It’s not your fault. Please believe me.”

He lets out a squeak that’s supposed to be an exhale and she releases him, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear her own vision. “We’re okay. We’re okay. Just breathe.”

But it isn’t okay. It takes him several seconds to find his voice. “If I h-had just told the truth from the beginning—”

“No.” She cuts him off. “Sometimes we make mistakes. We’re human. I know you were afraid, Lukas. And I know why you were afraid, okay? You were just trying to protect yourself. It may not have been the best decision but you didn’t do it to hurt anyone. I know that.”

Why does it matter what his reasons were? Actions mean everything. His actions led to so many deaths…there’s no forgiveness for that. “Phillip wanted to tell you, right from the beginning. I stopped him. I’m the reason she’s dead!”

She clasps his hands in hers. “Sweetheart, I know what you’re feeling. I know that guilt. And it took me a long time to understand I shouldn’t feel that way.”

 _Sweetheart?_ Who knew Sherriff Torrance had such a soft side.

“I…I had to protect someone once, and I made a mistake. She…sh-she died because of what I did.”

A tear travels down Helen’s cheek, connecting the spaces between her freckles.

“I don’t know what a different choice would have led to. Maybe we would’ve made it if I’d gone out fighting, or maybe we both would’ve died. I don’t know. But the point is, I never made the decision to hurt her. I did something in a moment of fear…a-and it ended badly, and I have to live with that…but I never chose to take that life. Neither did you.”

Whatever she’s talking about, it hits her hard enough to cover her face in more shining tears.

“Kane chose that. He chose to kill because he was a weak, sick man. You are not him. You didn’t know anyone would get hurt just because you were scared. Jesus, you’re only seventeen.” Her throat tightens on the words and she puts her hand to her mouth to stifle her crying.

But she still has it wrong. “I did, though. I did know I’d hurt Phillip. The things I said…”

He’s treated Phillip like garbage. All the garbage he thought he was, he’s turned around and put on Phillip from the very beginning. Hit him. Lied about him. Accused him. Used him. He’s a selfish asshole, but he’s not a stupid asshole. He _knows_ how he’s hurt Phillip.

“Okay.” Helen nods. She scrubs the tears from her face. “Okay, yeah. You did. You did know some of the things you did would hurt Phillip. People mess up sometimes when they’re in pain and hurt the ones they care about most. It’s still nothing like murder.”

He’s been kneeling for so long his legs are starting to cramp up. He falls back onto his butt and winces. Helen sits beside him.

“And don’t forget about the good things you’ve done.”

He snorts. It’s a horrible, snot-filled choking sound.

Helen just grins. “Yes, good. You saved Phillip’s life. He told me the truth. You could’ve stayed hidden when Ry—when Kane had a gun on Phillip that first night. But you didn’t. You came out swinging and you saved him with a frying pan, Lukas. A frying pan.”

That wasn’t really a choice, though, was it? He _had_ to protect Phillip.

“And yes, you hurt Phillip when you lied about what happened. But when it mattered most, you came to fix things. When I…” She pauses and swallows hard. “When I was stupidly going to let him go, you came and stopped that. You came and stopped me from losing my family and I will always, always be grateful to you for that.”

His brows rise up in shock. Helen is …grateful?

She bumps her shoulder into his. “So, thank you.”

He shakes his head. She’s gone freaking nuts.

They sit together in silence for a while, with only the crickets to listen to, until Helen just has to make him _think_ again.

“I know you heard what your father said.”

He closes his eyes. They’re so tired…he could almost fall asleep right here, sitting up, if Helen would only stop talking.

“He’s making mistakes, too. All parents do. It’ll take some time but I think he’ll see that.”

Sure, if she says so.

“And I don’t think he’s right about you not talking to someone. A professional. They can help, believe me. I know there are things you can’t tell the foster mom of the boy you’re dating.”

His eyes fly open and he catches her grinning again. _Boy he’s dating?_

“You know what my therapist told me once? That guilt can be selfish. A way to make it all about me when I should really be thinking about how I can be better for the people I care about.”

 _Selfish._ Exactly. That’s him, all right.

“You know,” she continues slowly, “Phillip hasn’t been doing that great. He puts on a brave face for Gabe and me, but he’s still hurting. He spends so much time alone in his room…I think he could really use your help.”

She stares at him, waiting for a response. But he can’t give her one, can’t move or blink, and of course, can’t fucking breathe, yet again.

Phillip could use his help. _Phillip needs him_.

What the hell has he done? Phillip is the one who should have Helen by his side right now. Phillip should have _him_ by his side.

Instead he’s probably sitting alone in his room, thinking he’s just been dumped by the guy he’s given everything to.

“Lukas?” Helen squeezes his hand. She’s not smiling anymore, and her green eyes are dark with concern. “You okay? Do we need to breathe together again?”

“Phillip,” he blurts out. And then he’s scrambling away again—third time that night—but this time he knows exactly where he’s going… and exactly what he has to do.


	10. 10

Back to the house and back through the open door, then up the steps two at a time. Lukas crashes into the bedroom at full speed. “Phillip?”

The room is empty. The laptop is still there, though, still playing its heartbreaking show. He forces his eyes away. Maybe he _should_ look, but right now he needs to concentrate and he can’t risk another meltdown. Where the hell is Phillip?

He backtracks to the stairs. He’ll do a full sweep of the house and the entire property if he has to. Maybe Phillip is talking to Gabe, or looking for Helen, or… drowning himself in a bottle of tequila. He’s done it before, after all. 

_Shit._

He’s halfway down the steps when the sound catches up to him. Rushing water, pounding into a sink basin. A faucet on at full blast. He heads to the bathroom and there’s no interruption to the water’s flow—it just keeps pouring out and echoing inside the small room.

“Phillip?” No answer. He raises his voice and knocks on the door. “Phillip?”

Nothing.

 _Phillip._ He twists uselessly at the handle and pushes against the lock. “Phillip! Phillip open up!”

Still nothing.

His forehead lands on the door with a dull thud. _Shit, this is bad._ He closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath while he still can. This whole day—week, month—has exhausted him to the point where even filling his lungs is a challenge. But going back to Helen for more breath-coaching is not an option, and he just _can’t_ let Phillip down anymore.

He’ll find the strength somewhere. He lifts himself upright, clenches his jaw, and backs up for momentum. Helen was right about one thing at least—he did manage to knock out a killer with a freaking frying pan. No damn door is going to stop him now.

 _On three._ He eyes his target and hunkers down, preparing to launch. _1…2…_

Gabe appears in the hallway. Damn that man can move quietly when he wants to.

And crap, this can’t look good—Lukas is literally in a ready-to-sprint stance with his shoulder aimed at the solid wood door in front of him.

“Oh, um, Mr. Caldwell…I’m not, I mean I wasn’t…”

Gabe has this kind of all-knowing smile that’s really fucking annoying. He can’t know all the shit he pretends to. Still, it’s better to see it now than to be tossed out of the house on his ass. Gabe reaches over and squeezes his shoulder, then offers him something with his other hand.

A tiny metal key.

“Talk to him,” Gabe says. He pats Lukas’ shoulder one more time, drops the key into his palm, and walks away.

Lukas waits just long enough for Gabe to be out of sight before he springs back into action. His hands are shaking and it takes a few tries before he’s able to guide the key into the lock, but finally, finally, there’s that satisfying click and the door springs open.

Phillip is huddled in a corner, knees drawn up to his chest. 

With all the force Lukas would’ve used on that door, he lunges forward, dropping to the ground and wrenching Phillip into his arms.  “Phillip I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m here, I’m here.” 

He holds on so tightly their ribs grind against each other with each of Phillip’s shuddering breaths. Phillip’s arms are stiff at his sides for a moment, and it’s _terrifying_ , but then slowly, miraculously, they reach around Lukas and return the embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” Lukas repeats, because really, he needs to say it a thousand times a day. “I’m sorry. I’m here now. It’s gonna be…okay.”

He leans back just enough to see Phillip’s face, still hovering so close their noses are nearly touching. There’s a darkness, an uncertainty, in Phillip’s eyes—it’s probably in Lukas’ too—but the thread of need that keeps yanking them together is still there. The _pull_ he can’t fight anymore. Doesn’t want to, either.

Lukas touches Phillip’s cheek and draws him in again, toward his lips. It’s awkward, just like the first time—all shaky and insecure. _What will happen to us?_

A floorboard creaks suddenly behind them, and Phillip’s gaze shifts to the open door. Lukas doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s Helen standing there, watching them. Phillip’s already pulling away, already starting to say something to her.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and kisses Phillip anyway. 

Cold, startled lips become warm as they slowly melt into his. He tilts his head and lashes flutter against his cheek as Phillip’s own eyes must be drifting closed, as he’s sinking into their connection completely. It’s so much like the perfect jump, when he soars off solid ground with his bike and catches maximum air. _Flying_. He’s kissing a surprised Phillip and Phillip is kissing him back, hard, hungrily, and Helen is seeing all of this, and he doesn’t give a, well, flying fuck.

The footsteps retreat down the hallway, and Phillip breaks free. His grin nearly splits his face. “You just kissed me, with tongue, in front of Helen.” 

Lukas smirks back at him. “I did.”

That earns him another kiss, but when they separate this time Phillip’s smile twitches into a frown. “You gonna tell me what’s really been going on now?” 

“Going on?” Lukas repeats stupidly, because sometimes dumb is just his default when he’s not ready to face things.

Phillip gives him a trademarked _Lukas-you-idiot_ eye roll. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been pulling away from me ever since the hospital, after…” he trails off. The _after_ part is pretty clear, anyhow.

 _After we were kidnapped by a maniac who nearly killed us. Who_ did _kill some of us._

“Oh. Yeah.” He shifts around on the cold tile floor. “But maybe we could take this somewhere more comfortable? And maybe we could turn off the water before we drain Tivoli’s reservoirs.” 

Phillip glares as he stands and shuts off the sink. “Fine. Let’s go then.” He offers Lukas his hand.

Lukas hesitates, but not long enough to risk Phillip getting pissed at him again. Maybe his dad has a point—it is time to fucking move on _._

_No more running, then._

He lets himself be pulled up and led away.


	11. 11

Only the shifting glow of the digital slideshow lights the room when they enter. With a soft click, Phillip shuts his laptop and the endless cycle of Anne Shea is over—for now. He moves the computer to his nightstand and takes off his shirt.

Lukas does the same. He lies down, staring up at the ceiling, with Phillip draped over his chest. He’s had a weight there for ages, but this time it’s Phillip-weight and instead of crushing his lungs, the pressure keeps him safe and secure, kind of like a seatbelt.

God he’s whipped.

“So?” Phillip prompts, fingers tracing wiggly lines between Lukas’ ribs. “I’m not just gonna fall asleep.”

Damn. Lukas scans all four corners of the room, but they don’t offer any hope of putting this off. Still, it’s dark and peaceful, with Phillip’s mop of brown hair tickling the bottom of his chin and his warm breath coasting along his skin. Now’s as good a time as any to get it over with. “I thought…I thought it was my fault.”

“Thought what was your fault?” Phillip lifts his head slightly.

“What happened.” Lukas’ throat tries its best to betray him, closing up on each word. “To…to…because I told you to keep it quiet. Keep _us_ quiet.” 

He waits for the reaction. A second, two seconds, an eternity. The room is too dark for him to read Phillip’s expression properly. But then Phillip pulls himself up, and the sudden loss of contact between them leaves Lukas’ heart free to explode with all its fears. _He’ll see it now. Things will never be the same._

“My mom,” Phillip says slowly. He blinks, like he’s clearing his vision. “You thought what happened to my mom was your fault.”

Lukas can’t answer, can’t even bring his eyes up to meet whatever look is in Phillip’s now. Pain? Disgust?

Phillip snorts. _Snorts?_ That’s…unexpected.

“So you wanna play the blame game, then? ‘Cause we can do that.”

 _How is any of this a game?_ But Phillip is launching away before he can get his traitorous voice to say anything out loud.

“You may have told me to keep quiet, but you don’t control me as much as you think you do. I could’ve told Helen right from the beginning. _I_ made the choice to listen to you, so then really, it’s my fault, right?”

 _Oh, God, no._ Of all the horrible ways this could be going…

Lukas jerks forward to clutch Phillip’s arms. “N-no, no, Phillip—” His hands are pushed away, and he ends up uselessly tugging on Phillip’s wrists. “It’s not your—”

“Or actually, I _did_ decide to tell Helen.” Phillip can’t be stopped. Not with that glint in his eye and that tightness in his jaw. “Only, she didn’t believe me fast enough, did she? She could’ve been on that motherfucker’s case a lot sooner. So it’s her fault.”

Lukas drops his hold on Phillip and slouches back, head spinning. Like he’s on one of those scrambler rides at the fair, whirling in rhythm, and there’s nothing left to do but be tossed around until the ride ends.

“But if you really think about it,” Phillip continues, “I wouldn’t even have been in Tivoli if my mom had gotten clean just _one_ of the times she said she was going to. So maybe it’s her own fault.”

 _What?_ The ride stops and he’s left plastered to the wall, pinned by Phillip’s glare. Phillip’s eyes are narrowed into angry slits and his nostrils are flared…but somehow, the fury doesn’t seem to be directed at him. Phillip doesn’t actually _mean_ what he’s saying.

More like he’s making a point. An _oh, shit_ really good goddamn point.

Lukas’ mouth drops open. “I’m an idiot.”

Phillip always has to be so much smarter, doesn’t he? The blame game could go on forever, with enough tiny pieces of _if only I’d_ for everyone. Go on forever and change nothing.

“Yeah, you’re an idiot.” Phillip shakes his head, and the mask of anger drops. “You’re an idiot but you’re not anything like that…that piece of shit.” His last words come out strangled, like he’s fighting to stay pissed as hell and not let out the sadness lurking underneath.

Lukas nods. It’s all he can manage, but it’s a start. He’s not a fucking murderer. He’s _not_. A thousand different choices might’ve kept Anne Shea from getting murdered, but only one man’s choice actually caused it. Phillip’s smart and right and beautiful and amazing and he’s so stupidly lucky to be in bed with him right now.

Phillip’s hand inches up towards his on the mattress until their fingertips touch. “I don’t know if my mom ever would’ve gotten better. But she was still my mom. I love her and…and she’s gone.”

Relief that maybe he’s not the root cause of all this shit is cut short. Phillip’s _hurting._ He has to do something…but what on earth can possibly make this kind of pain go away? How long had it taken him to stop feeling that raw ache in his heart after his mom died?

Phillip draws in a shaky breath and his fingers curl into fists around handfuls of blanket. He’s trying so hard not to break. “He took her away from me, Lukas. He _took_ her!”

“Shit, Phillip.” Lukas’ arms open wide on instinct, and Phillip falls into them. “It’s okay, you can cry. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

With one last shudder, the hot trails of Phillip’s tears begin to trickle down his chest. He squeezes Phillip closer, strokes his back and drops kisses along his forehead. All the things he should’ve been doing, right from the beginning. “I’m so sorry. I know it hurts. I know it hurts so much.”

His Aunt Margaret had held him, at his mother’s wake. Held him and rocked him and it didn’t take any of the pain away, but it was the only thing he’d had to cling to while his whole world changed.

Now he can do the same for Phillip. _Has_ to. 

Phillip sniffles and pulls back to wipe his face against his arm. “Sorry, got a little bit of snot.” 

“Shut up.” He kisses Phillip, snot and all. _I love you_.

Holy shit, where had that come from?

But it’s true. It’s so true it’s about the only thing he’s completely sure of right now.  He’s in love with Phillip Shea, the boy from the city who turned his world upside down. Or right-side up? Or turned him into a freaking sap. 

Maybe he should tell him?

Phillip settles back against his chest with a sigh. “I miss her.”

Or maybe now isn’t exactly the right time. He presses a gentle kiss into Phillip’s temple. “I know.” 

“Yeah.” Phillip smiles sadly. “I know you do.” He shifts around, pulling Lukas with him so they’re lying beside each other, nose to nose. “I was making a video of her when you came in before.” 

Lukas tugs the blanket over both of them, cocooning them in warmth. “Yeah, I saw it.”

His voice cracks a little. He tries to cover with a fake cough, but Phillip’s way too quick for his tricks. “Is that why you ran off?”

“No.” _Maybe._ “I mean, shit’s been coming at me for days, and I guess I haven’t been dealing with it or whatever, so it all kinda hit at once. Sorry I freaked you out. I just felt like I couldn’t breathe and I needed some air.”

Phillip frowns and places his hand on Lukas’ chest. He rubs his thumb along the skin in a soft arc. “You had a panic attack?” 

“What? No.” He’s not some mental case. Or probably not. “Like I said, I just needed…out.”

“So why’d you come back?” Phillip presses his lips into Lukas’ collarbone, leaving a path of kisses along his neck.

“Couldn’t stay away from you?” Lukas answers, and gets a huff of a laugh as a response. “And I talked to Helen a little about… some stuff.” 

The kisses stop as Phillip draws back with his brows raised. “To Helen? _You_ talked to Helen? Really?”

That attitude can’t go unchecked, so Lukas gently tickles Phillip’s side, holding him close when he tries to squirm free. “Fuck you. And maybe she doesn’t suck as much as I thought.”

“I guess that’s good to hear,” Helen’s voice breaks into the moment.

 _Shit!_ They spring apart to opposite ends of the bed and Lukas whirls around to face the doorway. 

Helen stands there, with Gabe by her side. She’s got this strange half-grimace on her face while Gabe is, of course, grinning like the stupid Cheshire cat.

“Oh. Hi, Helen. Hey Gabe,” Phillip says, and points to him for how chill he manages to make his voice. Lukas can’t even squeak out a basic greeting.

Helen sighs. “I’m not really sure how this works. You’re seventeen, you’re going to do what you’re going to do no matter what. I just hope you do it…safely.”

Oh, hell no. There’s no way he can handle lying here in Phillip’s bed with his shirt off listening to some sort of sex lecture from the _sheriff._

“I know you boys have been through…too much, and you need each other right now, so I’m not going to ask you to leave, Lukas. I’ll let your father know you’re staying over. I only ask that you be responsible and…respectful. And maybe we keep the door open tonight, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure, Helen,” Phillip answers. Helen waits in the hallway, still staring at them, until Phillip jams an elbow into Lukas’ ribs.

“Right, sure,” Lukas coughs out. 

“Okay then. We can all eat breakfast together tomorrow.”

Gabe nods, still wearing his life’s-so-damn-amusing smile, and slings an arm over Helen’s shoulder. “And I’ll cook. Goodnight, boys.”

“’Night,” he and Phillip answer together.

Helen and Gabe head off, and Phillip bursts into laughter. “Shit, your face, Lukas. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Dude, we’re like half-naked rolling around in bed and she’s…well she’s the sheriff!”

Phillip laughs harder, and it’s the most perfect sound in the world. When he finally stops to draw in breath, Lukas grabs him close and kisses him firmly. “Hey, when my suspension is over, you’ll come back to school, right?” 

“Suspension? Helen said you got in trouble for fighting but I didn’t know—”

Lukas kisses him again to shut him up. “Yeah, for three days. It’s stupid and I know I was being an idiot but can you please focus? You’re coming back to school when it’s over.”

“I am?” Phillip raises a doubtful brow.

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I need you there.” 

Phillip stares at him for a moment without blinking. “Really?”

“Yeah, really, idiot.” He presses their foreheads together.

 Phillip’s arms snake around to his back where they tap out a little rhythm. “So have you given any thought to um…what you’ll say about us?” 

“A little.” He’s on the honesty-track right now, so he might as well keep going. “I don’t really have it figured it out.”

Phillip nods, moving their heads in sync. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Rose offered to be my cover, so we wouldn’t get bothered.”

The rhythmic tapping stops. “Oh. Okay. Well, like I said before, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Lukas shifts back so he can study Phillip’s face. “You’d be okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want is fine.”

Phillip smiles, but it’s not the _right_ smile. His lips are tight and there’s no little crinkle of the skin by his eyes.

“You don’t lie as well as I do,” Lukas says.

 The smile slips from Phillip’s face. “What?”

“Nothing.” He wraps Phillip back in his arms. “But you’re coming to school next week. I’ll be waiting outside to give you a ride.” 

“Into the parking lot and everything?” Phillip pokes his ribs.

“And everything.”

The tension melts away as Phillip’s body relaxes against his. Phillip closes his eyes and his breaths become longer and deeper. Making out more would be awesome, but it’s been a really long fucking day and sleep in Phillip’s arms might be even more amazing right now.

Before Lukas drifts off as well, he lays one last kiss on Phillip’s lips. “And Phillip? I am gonna figure it out. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone’s still reading, I wanted to say sorry for taking so long to post this part. America kind of went crazy (you’ve probably noticed) and even though writing has always been my escape it felt sort of wrong to be escaping, you know? So it took me a bit to get into the right headspace. But I care about the characters and I want to end things properly; just may take a bit longer than I’d like.


	12. 12

“I wouldn’t like, have to make an announcement, would I? Like it doesn’t have to be some big thing.”

Rose lies back beside him on the hill, her dark hair spreading out against the green. “I guess not. But you know half the school already thinks Phillip is gay. If you start hanging around him all the time…people are gonna talk.”

Lukas shreds a few blades of grass with his thumbnail. “Yeah. I know.”

“So I guess it kind of depends if you want to get out ahead of it, or just let people figure it out on their own.”

“ _If_ I even want people to figure it out,” Lukas adds, because how can he really be ready for this? He isn’t the same person he was before Phillip, but that doesn’t mean he’s grown into his new skin.

“I’ll help you any way I can,” Rose says. Her eyes are wide and honest. “I mean, the two of you together, it’s like, so romantic.”

He tosses his supply of torn grass at her.

“No, but really, think about it…you’re like, star-crossed lovers…or motorcrossed lovers—”

“Okay, you can shut up now.” He drops his hand on top of hers and can’t fight off his stupid grin.

She smiles back at him. And it’s so easy to do this now, to lie back with her in an open field with their fingers laced together. She kind of is everything a guy could want. A straight guy, anyway.

“Plus there’s always this option.” She shakes their joined hands and winks. 

It seems like a playful remark, but a split second of sadness wrinkles her perfect eyebrows before she’s back to grinning at him.

He squints, from the sunlight beaming down and from the pieces falling into place in his mind. “That’s what you’d choose, right? For us to keep pretending we’re dating.”

Rose turns her head to stare up at the clouds. “No. I mean, maybe in some fantasy world. I’m not gonna lie. Being your girlfriend was kind of awesome.”

He snorts. In the history books he’ll have to go down as one of the world’s worst boyfriends. He’s cheated, he’s manipulated, fuck he’s even filmed her grinding on top of him and released it to everyone they knew. He should be in fucking _jail_ or something _._

“I mean, I wasn’t even that popular, ‘cause I’m not one of the cookie-cutter girls, and you picked _me_. I thought it made me special.”

Lukas shakes his head. “Because of me? Hell no. I picked you because _you_ were special.”

The nice girl, the girl with the different kind of beauty, and yeah, if he’s being fucking truthful, the girl who seemed like she wasn’t going to be rushing to have sex. But she definitely did have something special, even if he hadn’t appreciated it the way he should have.

Rose laughs. “You see? That right there. You’re sweet, Lukas, even if you claim not to be.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m the worst.”

She laughs again. “Sort of. But anyway, there were good times, and I’ll…miss them. Even so, I’d never use a relationship with you to win some popularity contest now.”

Shit. Like he had?

“Besides, we can have some good times again in the future, as friends, right?”

She smiles at him hopefully, and it sends an arrow of pain through his heart. He doesn’t deserve her. “Rose…I’m an asshole.” 

She tilts her head and waits for him to say more.

Fuck, coming clean hurts. But if the last few weeks have taught him anything, it’s that he literally can’t breathe when smothered in hidden guilt. Sure, everything might explode when he tells the truth but at least it’ll be _over_.

He squeezes his eyes shut so he can get it all out. “I’m the one who released that video. Of…of you and me. I wanted people to stop talking about me and Phillip and…and I’m a total fucking asshole.”

He peels back one lid at a time to see her face again. She’s searching the sky, deep in thought.

“Is that why you wouldn’t let me take my clothes off?”

He nods, throat too tight to speak.

She exhales, her chest falling slowly. “I kind of had that figured.”

 _What?_ Then why is she still talking to him? And why on earth are they still holding hands?

“Phillip was always going around with his phone taking videos, and once I knew about you two… it’s the only thing that really made sense. Plus you were super weird that day. Besides the not getting it up part.”

 _That_ failure still stung, even if it wasn’t something he’d actually wanted.  Still pretty humiliating, and only Rose’s kindness—or deliberate blindness—let him live it down at the time.

But this isn’t supposed to be about selfish old him anymore. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t apologize enough for what I did. I’m the worst asshole in the world and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to tell everyone about me and Phillip, or never see me again, or…whatever.”

Rose glances over at him, her lips pursed. “Yes. You are an incredible asshole.”

Finally, someone is going to let him have it. It’s a relief, actually, and he clenches his teeth, ready for the onslaught.

“Good thing you’re in assholes’ anonymous now. Is it a twelve-step program? Do they give you a little chip for every day you’re not an asshole?”

His mouth drops open, and her rosy cheeks light up with her grin. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll think of some way you can make things up to me.”

He shakes his head. “Rose, you can’t—I mean, I don’t deserve—”

“You don’t control me, Lukas Waldenbeck.” She stands and brushes the grass from her jeans and sweater. “I gotta get back home. See you at school tomorrow. And no more fighting, or I’ll take away your asshole recovery chip and you’ll have to go back to step one.”

She blows him a kiss and laughs as she saunters away, leaving him alone in the field to process what the hell just happened. He grabs handfuls of dirt from both sides, proof the ground underneath him hasn’t given way, like he always expects it to. It’s completely solid. _Everything_ has become more solid, more real, since Phillip. All the fake, flimsy parts of his life are shaping up into something he can actually stand on.

If he can just find the courage to take the next step.


	13. 13

Lukas cuts off his bike engine, but Phillip’s arms don’t move from their spot around his waist. His grip lingers—tightens, even—squeezing out one last sort-of embrace before they’re forced to separate.

It’ll be the last time he gets to feel Phillip’s touch for the next six hours. He rests his shoulders against Phillip for a split second before hopping off the bike, forcefully tearing himself away.

 _Mistake._ His heart reacts to the loss of contact by missing a beat and then slamming repeatedly into his chest. How is he going to survive the day with Phillip so close and yet so far away?

Phillip moves more slowly to stand and pull off his helmet. His jaw is tight and hollow circles darken his eyes.

“You okay?” Lukas murmurs to him. Under his breath, of course, where the passing students can’t hear him, can’t put two and two together.

Phillip gives him a tight smile. “Yeah. I mean, okay enough.”

“Hey, Lukas!” It’s Simone again, waving him over. And Eric and Rose and all the rest of the usual suspects…except for Jake Gardner, thank goodness.

Lukas jerks his head at Phillip, indicating he should follow. And Phillip does that much, at least, but once they’ve reached the crowd his eyes drop to the ground and his hands stuff themselves firmly into his pockets.

Simone gives him a quick side-eyed look. As in, _what’s he doing here?_ But Lukas must be more interesting to her because soon she’s fake-punching his shoulder. “How was the suspension, Floyd Mayweather?”

“Uh, it was fine. Mostly just had to do more chores…and I guess I was grounded.” God he’s so awkward. Never knows what the hell to say, and it’s only getting worse.

“Why’d you do it anyway?” Eric asks.

He waits for Rose to help him out, but she’s paying more attention to Phillip, who has started shuffling his feet while apparently studying the dirt on his shoes.

“Jake was talking shit.”

Phillip doesn’t look up from his toes. He’s back to being the weird loner kid, the guy with no real friends, the one the jackasses call _fag_ behind his back.

A knot builds in Lukas’ throat. Time to get the hell away from here. “Hey, I gotta talk to my teachers about makeup assignments. See you guys later?”

Simone frowns, but steps aside to let him pass. Before he makes his escape, he manages to turn slightly and catch Phillip’s attention. “See you in third period.”

Phillip’s smile barely lifts the corners of his lips, but his eyes are grateful, and it’s something.

Baby steps.

The accomplishment—saying a relatively normal sentence to Phillip in front of curious friends—keeps him sane until the middle of first period. But Mrs. Decker’s droning voice somehow manages to sap his tiny flicker of confidence. She’s going on and on about _the people_ and their responsibility in government. Action instead of talk, she says, and he’s so pathetic he’s actually drawing connections to his life.

Can he even consider his morning with Phillip an accomplishment? Sure, they rode to school together. People saw them. He said a few words to Phillip in public.

A few fucking words.

It’s nothing, really. He said more to Simone and she’s starting to annoy the hell out of him. How can Phillip be okay with taking his crumbs?

A tickle starts in the back of his throat again. He swallows hard to get rid of it.

If _he’s_ stressing at having to sit in class and listen to stuff that seems both completely pointless in light of people getting shot at and murdered…and also weirdly relevant… how must Phillip be doing? Phillip’s still clearly hurting from his loss, he doesn’t know where he stands with Lukas, he’s shy and withdrawn around other kids at school, and he’ll have to wait two more periods to see if Lukas can summon the balls for a repeat performance of a one-sentence gift.

Fuck. Swallowing isn’t helping anymore. His chest is starting to ache.

He’s supposed to be paying attention. He’ll have to write an essay for Mrs. Decker to make up for his days of missed class. He’s supposed to keep his grades decent, clean up his image, and get himself a new sponsor. He’s supposed to be figuring out how to be a real person again. With Phillip. Somehow.

Hell, there’s twenty more minutes. Twenty more minutes of torture where he has to sit here and be still and keep tumbling over all the _supposed-tos_ while also worrying if Phillip is okay, if he’s struggling to breathe, too…

He yanks out his phone under the desk and texts Phillip. _Meet me on the roof. Now._

 _What?_ His phone buzzes back. _I’m in class._

 _It’s important._ He stumbles to his feet after his last text, making all twenty-three students and the teacher stare up at him. “Gotta use the bathroom,” he announces, and he must really still have some of those pity points because Mrs. Decker actually lets him go without a word.

By the time he bursts out the heavy metal door and into the crisp air, dread is starting to press at his lungs. God, not this again. He squats down and leans over, sinking his head to his knees.

He’s not going to flip out this time. No way in hell. He _knows_ how to breathe. What was that thing Helen had done? _In and out, in and out. You’ve got this._

“Lukas?” Phillip’s arm lands on his back. “Are you okay? Are you having another panic attack?”

His chest opens at Phillip’s touch, and air rushes in. Thank God.

He slowly stands back up, blinking away the last traces of dizziness. “Will you quit saying that? I don’t have panic attacks.”

Phillip frowns. “Well you look really pale.”

“That’s my natural color.”

No one could argue with that, really.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Phillip presses. He’s drawing closer. Close enough to kiss.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Lukas manages a tight laugh, and he reaches out to squeeze Phillip’s shoulder.

“Then what was so important that I had to rush up here in the middle of class?”

“I wanted to make sure _you_ were okay,” Lukas answers, and it’s not quite a lie. “Your first day back at school and everything.”

Phillip shrugs. “Okay. Sure. It kinda sucks, but whatever. So how come you were all hunched over when I got up here, and it didn’t even seem like you heard me the first time I called y—”

“Jesus Christ, Phillip, let it go!” If Phillip doesn’t stop worrying about him, he’s going to scream. _He_ needs to worry about Phillip right now. “I told you I’m fine. I just got antsy, having to sit in class and pretend like everything’s normal. Like we didn’t survive a serial killer kidnapping us and shooting me and …and doing what he did. So I wigged out a little, so what. It’s probably just ‘cause it’s my first day back around lots of people without the meds.”

Both Phillip’s brows shoot up. “Meds? What meds?”

Oh, hell. He hadn’t meant to go opening that can of worms.

“From the hospital. From when I got shot, remember? They gave me a prescription to take for the pain.”

Phillip’s look softens, and he gently rubs at the wound from above Lukas’ shirt. “Shit, yeah. Does it still hurt?”

Leaning into Phillip’s touch makes everything feel better. “Yeah, a little.”

“Then where’s the medicine now?” Phillip keeps stroking the spot.

Lukas breathes deeply and closes his eyes to soak it all in. “My dad took them.”

“How come?”

“He was worried I was taking too many.” 

The gentle massage stops short, and Lukas’ eyes fly open. Maybe there is such a thing as too much truth.

Phillip’s jaw is clenched. That’s a bad sign. “And were you?”

“Was I what?” God, he’ll never lose that dumb defense mechanism, will he?

It only makes Phillip’s expression grow fiercer. “Were you taking too many pills.”

“I mean, not _that_ many… 

Phillip storms a few steps away, thrusting his hands into his hair. “What the hell, Lukas? What the hell is wrong with you? You seriously think after everything I went through with my mom that I’m gonna stick around with someone else who wants to—“

“No, no.” He chases after Phillip and blocks him off from the door. “No, I’m not. I’m not doing that, I swear. I was a little messed up after everything and maybe I did use a few more than I was supposed to, but it’s been days now and I haven’t taken a single more pill. Even though my shoulder hurts. I’m just gonna take the pain, okay? I won’t… I won’t use any more. I promise.”

Phillip’s not having it. He shakes his head and withdraws again, folding his arms. “It’s not just that.”

“What is it then? Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” The words tumble out too fast. Mrs. Decker would call it _all talk._ He’s still falling short on the action.

“You turn to everything else before me.” 

 _What?_ “I’m here with you right now. What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you were upset, and instead of coming to me, you decided to abuse pain medication, beat up some kid…you even talked to _Helen_ before you told me what was going on.”

Oh.

“Why do you always choose me last?” Phillip’s voice is hoarse, struggling past emotion.

Lukas chews on his lip, buying himself time to come up with the right answer. There’s not much action he can take on a rooftop. All he can do is explain himself, and he’s never been too great at that. “Don’t you get it? I was supposed to be there for _you,_ Phillip. You lost your mom, and I don’t remember all of how that feels but I remember enough to know it fucking sucks. I was supposed to be the strong one, and instead I was just a pathetic mess. I fucked everything up and I blamed myself and…and you deserved better.”

Phillip’s jaw finally unclenches. “You…you don’t have to be the strong one,” he says quietly.

Lukas arches a brow. “So, what, you’re gonna be the strong one?”

Phillip snorts, and his mouth actually quirks up in a half-grin. “Maybe neither of us is ‘the strong one.’ But maybe we can be stronger…together.”

Lukas blinks a few times. “That is the corniest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

They both burst into relieved laughter, drawing them back toward each other. Lukas reaches out and unfolds Phillip’s arms so he can hold him close, tuck his head in against Phillip’s neck and just rest there, secure in their embrace.

Maybe he can’t make it six hours without touching Phillip. At least there are ways to get the fix he needs.

The door to the roof swings open suddenly and they jump apart. Keith Horner, resident pothead, scratches his ass as he walks out to join them.

“Hey, dudes. Just gonna smoke some. You wanna?” He holds out a joint.

“Um, nah, we gotta get back to class,” Lukas says, fighting to keep a straight face as Phillip is giggling across from him.

“Yeah, man, cool.” Keith lights up, already ignoring them, and Lukas and Phillip scramble away.

They clamber down the steps, but before they reach the hallway, Lukas grabs Phillip’s shirt and yanks him into a kiss. He doesn’t let go, instead backing Phillip into the corner of the stairwell and making it clear this isn’t just some little smooch. This is enough of a fucking kiss—legs entwined, lips smashed together, tongues tangling—that they’re both going to need a minute to cool down before they can be seen in public again. 

“Come to my place after school?” Lukas whispers in Phillip’s ear, and maybe not-so-accidentally bucks up against his crotch.

“What about your dad?” Phillip is breathless and glassy-eyed.

“Shouldn’t be home for hours.”

His cocky grin spreads to Phillip, and it’s all the help he needs to make it through this day.  Heart to heart talks are important and all…but it’s about fucking time they got in another way to let off some steam.


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mature content warning

Lukas runs his fingers down Phillip’s spine, ending in the dip right before his perfect ass. That arch really drives him wild. He presses in for another kiss and sucks gently on Phillip’s lower lip. His teeth graze the skin there as he draws away, but he’s careful not to leave a mark. There’s still that whole _sheriff’s kid_ thing to keep in mind.

“God, you’re hot,” he mumbles into Phillip’s mouth. Phillip chuckles, air rushing out his nostrils and tickling Lukas’ skin.

“You’re _so_ into me,” Phillip says, grinning brightly, confidently. _This_ is how Phillip should always be.

“Yeah? You think so?”

He pins Phillip down, pressing harder into every little wiggle and squirm. Phillip’s not really trying to get up, anyway, but his movement has something else up and hard within seconds.

Lukas stretches back, straddling Phillip’s hips. It’s an amazing view, complete with Phillip’s kiss-reddened lips and tousled hair and faintly-muscled chest. He drags his hand across Phillip’s ribs and down to his flat stomach, studying the difference between his pale white fingers and Phillip’s smooth olive skin.

Phillip bucks impatiently and starts to undo his jeans, but Lukas bats his hands away. Undressing Phillip makes his blood boil—in a good way—so he unbuttons and unzips Phillip’s pants in one tug, then roughly yanks the things off of him.

“You wanna?” Phillip says, pupils blown wide, breathless, already reaching for his wallet so he can get his condom and those little packets of lube.

“Mm. In a minute.” Lukas scoots down further, giving himself space to slip his hand into the waistband of Phillip’s boxers. He clamps down on Phillip’s dick with a firm grip, and the gasp Phillip lets out in response is absolutely perfect.

“Kinda wanna try something,” he says while Phillip is still melting into the mattress, letting out little mumbles of pleasure.

Phillip’s always had him pegged _._ He _is_ so into Phillip. He’s _that guy_. He’s gay and he definitely likes dick.

Enough that he’s ready to give blowing one a shot.

Phillip’s probably way more experienced at this, but he has to start somewhere. It’s too bad he never got a blowjob himself…maybe he could’ve used some of that information.

Step one is easy at least. He lowers Phillip’s boxers, leans over, and draws Phillip’s length into his mouth.

Phillip lets out a loud, shaky sigh. So far, so good.

Now what? Fuck he needs to watch more porn. He ends up deciding on a slow up and down motion—not too deep, though, because he’s not sure about his gag reflex—with gentle pressure from his tongue and lips.

Phillip arches up on the bed and groans. Shit, he’s hot like this. Completely lost in the moment, eyes rolling back, mouth hanging open, chest heaving. It’s enough to get Lukas going without even having to reach back to help himself along.

“Shit, shit, Lukas,” Phillip gasps, and then pushes Lukas away. Just in time to let the spurt of his release arch up and land squarely on his stomach.

Lukas sits up and catches his breath. Does this mean he’s…good at blowjobs? Great, even? It’s only been a minute or so.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Phillip bites his lip. “I should’ve lasted longer than that.”

“Are you kidding? That was like, the hottest thing ever.” He laughs and drops down to kiss Phillip, forgetting he’ll wind up with a sticky chest.

Maybe they can shower together later.

“Well, can I return the favor?” Phillip asks, already beginning to kiss his way down Lukas’ neck. He licks at a spot in the hollow of Lukas’ collarbone.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

Phillip’s kiss trail is all the way to his quivering stomach by the time the car rolls up outside.

Fucking hell.

“I thought you said your dad wasn’t going to be back for hours!” Phillip groans, already rolling off the bed to retrieve his clothes.

“He’s not supposed to be.” Lukas springs into action, too—nothing gets rid of a hard-on faster than the thought of his father walking in on him. He throws on a t-shirt and straightens the sheets of his bed. “Just…go sit at my desk and pretend we’re studying or something.”

Phillip rolls his eyes. “Is he gonna be mad I’m here?”

Lukas scratches his head and moves to peer out the window. It’s his dad, all right, but at least he’s taking his time unloading the truck before coming inside.  “Nah. I mean, I dunno. We haven’t really talked much since I overheard him that night. Not about anything real, anyway.”

“Why not?” Phillip dutifully takes a book out of his backpack and opens it in his lap. “I mean, that’s kind of a big thing to just…ignore.”

“You’ve met my dad. Sort of.” Lukas sighs. “He doesn’t _talk_ about things. He just keeps it all in until one day he explodes.”

So many explosions, over the years. So many moments where he’s had to huddle with his eyes squeezed shut while his usually-silent father erupts into drunken yelling and throwing things and the occasional backhanded slap.

“Huh. Well at least we know where you get it from.”

“What?” He turns sharply to stare at Phillip. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Seriously?” Phillip snorts and turns the page of his book. “Really doesn’t remind you of someone—keeping stuff in until it makes you explode and do stupid things?”

 _Stupid things?_ Like drinking too much and hitting your son…or popping pills and punching out Jake Gardner?

His stomach turns and he clamps his mouth shut, breathing slowly through his nose to beat back the sudden queasiness.

Fuck Phillip and his ability to always _know_ him.

“Lukas?” His dad clambers into the kitchen downstairs. “Lukas, you up there?”

He should really go down to meet him. Cut his dad off before he gets a chance to come upstairs and be all awkward around Phillip. But he’s still working on breathing, and on not thinking about Jake’s bloody face when he pummeled him.

“Lukas?” His father has reached the hallway. “Came home early to see if you wanted to—” He stops short at the door. “Oh…I didn’t realize you…”

“Hi, Mr. Waldenbeck,” Phillip says, but he’s nervously clutching his book and he doesn’t make eye contact for long.

His father gives them a curt nod and heads off again.

“Well, that went smoothly,” Phillip mumbles under his breath.

“Yeah…” Lukas rubs his necks uneasily. “I better go see what he actually wanted.”

He catches up to his father in the kitchen, where he’s thankfully not going for the liquor cabinet.

“I thought you weren’t going to be home until later.”

“Yeah,” his father says, but doesn’t turn to look at him. “I thought I might come early to see how your first day back at school went…see if you wanted to…watch the game tonight or something.”

“Oh.” _Watch the game_ is code for father-son bonding time. Sometimes his father even tries to delve deep during commercial breaks and make some sort of connection—it used to be about his classes at school, or the girls he liked, or his latest motocross stunts.

Now? Who freaking knows what they have to say to each other.

“Well, Phillip’s still here, so I’m just gonna…” He tries for a quick escape, backing up toward the stairs.

His father stops him from leaving with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Son, I—“

Lukas stares at a spot on his father’s chest. Whatever comes next probably won’t be good.

“I realize I haven’t…apologized. For what you heard the other day. I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Lukas slowly raises his eyes to his father’s face. It looks truly pained, with his gray-blond brows knit together and his forehead creased with deep, sun burnt wrinkles.

He swallows hard and licks his dry lips before speaking. The smart thing would be to take this olive branch, get the hell away, and rush back to Phillip.

But he’s never been that smart. “Yeah, you did mean it.”

His father drops his arm and steps back. “No, no, son, I—”

“It’s okay, Dad. I get it. Being like this means I have to…I have to face more things than some other people. I get why you wouldn’t want that for me. But it’s just the way I am.”

God, has he ever said this much real shit to his father in one breath? He has to pause a moment to regroup.

“And…there’s a lot of things I need to change about me…but liking Phillip isn’t one of them.”

This honesty stuff is terrifying, but it’s also the strongest he’s felt in ages. He’s not slinking away and leaving things to fester until they _explode_. He’s telling it just like it is, getting it all out in the open. It may mean years more awkwardness with his father, but it has to be better than tension so thick the air isn’t breathable. Besides, he only has a few years left where he has to live under this roof.

His father nods slowly. “I know, son. I…understand.”

For a moment, all Lukas can do is blink and stare. His father…actually understands? He’s not prepared for a response to that one.

“Go on up to Phillip.” His father turns away and opens the fridge. Maybe he’s not ready to say more, either. Thank God.

Lukas heads to the stairwell, nervous energy keeping the heels of his feet from touching the ground. He’s almost prancing—and damn that’s gay.

His father calls out to him when he reaches the first step. “And uh, is he staying for dinner?”

“Nah.” He won’t do that to his father…yet. “We can, um, watch the game if you still want.”

Son duties fulfilled, he races up to his room, where a worried Phillip is standing in the doorway.

His hair is still all messed up from earlier, and he makes it worse by sticking his fingers into it as he sighs. “You were gone for a while, I thought maybe—“

Lukas hugs Phillip and whirls him around to walk him toward the bed. “Nope. Everything’s fine. Everything’s great. Amazingly great.”

“Yeah?” Phillip laughs as he falls back onto the mattress. “So great we’re gonna hook up with the door open and your dad downstairs?”

“Don’t freaking tempt me,” Lukas says. For now, he can just admire Phillip lying there, sex-tossed hair on his pillow, perfect lips grinning up at him. For now, for once, he can just be completely _happy._

His phone dings in his pocket, and he pulls it out to read the incoming text, from Rose.

_I just wanted to let you know Keith Horner saw you guys together on the roof today, and, well…the rumors have started._


	15. Chapter 15

Has time always moved this slowly? Lukas’ leg bounces up and down, shaking his whole desk. His pencil rolls off the top and clatters to the floor. He leans over, picks it up, and stares back at the clock. Only thirty seconds have passed.

Fucking hell.

No one’s said anything yet. Not out loud, anyway. But it’s still _everywhere_. His casual conversations have reached peak awkwardness. Eyes dart away from him too quickly. Whispering stops when he passes by. And he didn’t miss the collective stare of what felt like the entire school when he and Phillip walked in together.

What are they saying?

_Did you hear Lukas is screwing that Phillip kid?_

_Lukas is a freak._

_Lukas is a fag._

His leg jerks up too high and slams it into his desk. He lets out a stifled groan of pain and his pencil falls again. Someone behind him giggles.

If only he could text Phillip for help. Go to their special place, laugh about stupid things, hold hands, kiss—just _relax_ for a damn minute. But he can’t risk being followed. Who else will “accidentally” stumble upon them? Who will wait behind a barely-open door to snap a picture—hard evidence, _proof_ —that all the rumors are true? They’d be legends. It’d be the biggest thing to hit the school since…since he released his own not-quite-sex tape. 

So texting Phillip is not an option.  He settles for Rose instead. She’s his only source of information, and not knowing is obviously chipping away at his sanity.

_What else have you heard? Is it bad?_

_Depends on what you mean by bad. I’m just not sure, am I supposed to be denying it if people ask me? What do you want me to do?_

“No phones in class.” The teacher passes by his desk with a stern look. That’s a relief, actually, because he has no answers. If Rose keeps defending him and the truth comes out anyway, she’s going to look like the dumb one. And after all he’s put her through, she doesn’t deserve that.

On the other hand, if she says nothing, it’ll make everyone even more suspicious. And the rumors will grow and grow until they swallow his life whole. It’ll drive him insane, and insane Lukas has never been a very good boyfriend to Phillip.

And Phillip is all that matters.

He’s back to square one. Stuck in class, losing his shit, and with no idea what to do.

The girl next to him passes him a note, but of course it’s really from Simone, sitting two rows to the left. She grins over at him. Looks like she decided to go old school to get around the no phones rule. 

_What’re you doing today after school? We should hang. Wanted to ask you something._

Would that something be, _are you gay?_ Or worse, _wanna hook up?_

He’s so screwed.

He doesn’t respond to her. Just sort of gestures to the teacher and shrugs. Hopefully that’s enough to buy him…what, a few minutes of peace? Class is almost over, and then it’s going to be a lot harder to avoid her.

Maybe he can text Rose and have her intercept? She’s always up for some passive aggressive pleasantries.

Yeah, maybe he can just continue to have his ex-girlfriend fight his battles for him. Real classy.

The bell rings. There’s a homework assignment on the board, but if he waits to copy it down Simone will definitely have him cornered. He’ll just have to ask another classmate later, if he has the balls to talk to them without breaking into a sweat and blurting out _I love Phillip_ in response to “what’s up.”

Huh. There was that love word again.

“Lukas?” Simone calls out to him as he slings his bag over his shoulder and crosses into the hallway.

“I gotta, um…uh…” Ah, hell. “I gotta find Phillip.”

She stops short, and he darts into the oncoming stream of students.

 _Way to go Lukas. Why don’t you just kiss him in front of the whole school and be done with it._ He’s running out of lies, and if his stupid inner voice is any indication, he’s going to crack at any second. That now-familiar tightening in his throat and chest starts up again.

But Thank God, there’s Phillip, standing by the doors to freedom. 

“Hey, man.” He walks toward him too quickly. And exactly how many feet should he keep between them to seem…not gay?

“Hey.” Phillip pinches the bridge of his nose. The dark circles around his eyes are back.

“You okay?” Lukas steps closer. And shit, he is definitely standing way too close now.

“Yeah. I mean, okay-ish. Just kinda tough being back here. I feel like everyone’s either pitying me or avoiding me… more than usual.” Phillip offers up a sad little smirk.

Lukas clenches his jaw shut. If he tells Phillip about the rumors now, it’ll only make things worse. What he needs to do is grab Phillip, get to his bike, and get them the hell out of here. Without actually _grabbing_ Phillip, of course. 

“You wanna, um…” He slams his hands into his pockets and points with his elbow toward the parking lot. He’s not over today’s awkwardness, apparently, because he can’t make eye-contact with Phillip for long.

Phillip follows his lead, stuffing his own hands in his pockets as well. So they’re just two friends, walking along with their heads down and a totally normal amount of space between them.

Lukas is staring so hard at the ground he doesn’t see the group by his bike until it’s too late. Fuck, he’s led them right into a trap.

A trap, or friends with questions—whatever. They’re practically the same thing. Eric and Carter and Rose and even Simone are there now. When did she slip around him? Eric’s leaning on his bike, the fucker. If Lukas could afford to waste his air, he’d chew him out.

“Simone’s got the house to herself tonight,” Eric announces. “Gonna be a pretty chill party, though. Just gonna drink and hang. You in?”

“Uh…” He takes too long exhaling. Bad idea, when inhales are getting harder to manage. 

“C’mon, man, you need to just relax, right?” Eric play-punches him in the shoulder, and he stumbles back. “After everything, you deserve it. You’re wound up way too tight. Jake’s coming…you guys can clear the air.”

Rose’s eyebrows are little zigzags of worry, but she can’t help him now. And Phillip…Phillip is back to memorizing all the spots of dirt on his shoes. He’s made himself invisible, even while standing in the middle of this whole conversation.

Because that’s what Phillip does. Makes himself, makes what he wants, totally invisible while other people’s needs take center stage. He did it with his mom, with Lukas, and maybe he’ll even do it with the next guy he ends up with.

But there can’t be a next guy. There just _can’t._

“I dunno.” He bumps Phillip with his shoulder. “What do you think? Wanna go?”

Phillip’s head jerks up and he blinks several times, like he’s just gone from darkness to sunlight. “I…um…”

Eric stares at both of them, eyes sliding back and forth warily. “Oh. I mean, I guess Phillip can come, if it’s okay with Simone.”

“Sure, yeah.” Simone can’t possibly look less interested as she nods, eyes glued to her phone. 

“Great.” Lukas tries to step around Eric. “Maybe I’ll see you guys later, then.”

Eric stands slowly, but doesn’t move aside. “So…” he begins, and that one stretched-out syllable makes all the hairs on Lukas’ neck stand on end. “Are you and Shea like, best friends now? After the whole kidnapper-murderer thing or something?”

Well, damn. That was a nice little lie, right? They’ve been through some crazy shit together. They’ve bonded. They’ve defended their lives together and now they’re comrades in arms…blood brothers. Lukas and Phillip, badasses and best friends. Yeah, that has a nice ring to it. He can totally work with this.

“Lukas?” Rose says softly, drawing him back into the moment. Phillip’s returned to his shoe inspection, and everyone else is still staring at him, waiting.

“We’re…” He shakes his head. “We’re more than friends.” 

Rose clamps a hand over her mouth and it’s the last face Lukas really sees before he grabs—yes _grabs_ —Phillip’s arm and yanks him toward the bike. Eric and everyone else scatter. He tosses Phillip his helmet and they’re roaring off within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wave* really looking for a writing partner and/or beta for an original fic. :)


	16. 16

They can’t talk while they ride, and that’s perfect. He doesn’t have the words right now. Phillip’s arms are so tight around him they’re nearly crushing him, but that’s good, too. He can focus on the pressure, focus on the slap of the air on his skin. Focus on the sound of the wind and the rumble of the engine. Anything but what the _hell_ he’s just done.

He can go on for hours like this. Maybe he will. Except Phillip might actually have to loosen his grip a little before he’s severed in half.

As if in response, Phillip frees one of his arms to point toward an open field they’ve used for filming. Lukas almost ignores him, but now that he’s no longer being squeezed to death, he can’t blame Phillip for the fact he’s still struggling to breathe.

He veers off the road and into the thick green. He’s barely slowed to a stop before Phillip hops off and tears away his helmet, leaving his hair an adorable mess. A mile-wide smile stretches across his face, complete with wind-pinked cheeks.

“Lukas, I can’t believe you…I mean, I know it was kinda vague, but still, I can’t believe you…you just…”

Phillip trails off as Lukas carefully dismounts from his bike. He takes off his own helmet and crouches down, resting his head on his knees.

_You can do this. You know how to breathe._

Phillip kneels beside him. “Lukas?”

He’s able to lift his eyes, but his breath hasn’t sorted itself out yet. He watches Phillip’s chest rise and fall and concentrates on making his own match. It’s not that bad, this time. Either he’s getting better, or getting lucky. He falls into a cross-legged position once he’s got it all under control, and Phillip does the same.

“What’s wrong?” Phillip’s voice is low and shaky, the earlier excitement sucked right out of him. 

 _Nothing_ is on the tip of Lukas’ tongue. His go-to denial. It’s always worked for him in the past.

Then again, has it?

“Sometimes…sometimes it just gets hard for me to breathe. Stupid, huh? Helen said maybe I should talk to someone about it. Like a shrink or something. Someone who fixes crazy people.”

Phillip puts an arm over his shoulder. “You’re not crazy.”

“Yeah, right.” He rolls his eyes and pushes back the hair clinging to sweat on his forehead. “I mean, you went through worse than what I did, and you’re not going nuts.”

“First of all, I didn’t get shot and lie in a coma for days, so not exactly the same thing. And secondly, the only reason I’m not…” Phillip stops and swallows. “Not ‘going nuts’ is because…I have you.”

Shit, that nearly takes the air from his lungs again. But in a good way, somehow. In the _I mean something to the person I love_ way. And he really cannot stop thinking that L word, can he?

Still, it’s a little hard to believe. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Phillip tugs him closer, into his embrace. “I have you making me go outside, go back to school. Making me remember how to laugh and smile again. Reminding me what being _happy_ feels like.”

He’s really doing all that? Well, damn. That’s a confidence boost. Maybe even more than the one he got from the discovery of his mad blowjob skills. 

“This may come as a surprise to you…“ Phillip’s hand slips into his and they play their dancing fingers game. “But I’ve been through tough times before, without you, and it…it wasn’t good, being alone. It’s much better with you.”

Lukas sighs and presses a kiss to Phillip’s temple. Phillip is a warrior compared to him. “I’m sorry. After everything you’ve been through…you’re amazing, really.”

Phillip shifts in his arms. “I…haven’t always been amazing,” he says quietly. “There were some really shitty moments where I wasn’t amazing at all.”

The words cause a swift plummet back to reality—to the truth of Phillip’s _tough times_. No matter how hard things ever were for Lukas growing up, he always had food in his stomach and a roof over his head. But Phillip…Phillip’s seen a much darker side of the world.

“Hey.” He gives Phillip a little jostle. “You made it here. That counts for a whole hell of a lot.” 

Phillip lifts half his mouth in a sad grin. “I guess so. And it was worth it. If I actually had…uh, given up any of the times I wanted to, I wouldn’t have met you.” 

Lukas closes his eyes, a desperate but pointless attempt to block out just what _given up_ really means. He can’t think about that, can’t imagine a life without Phillip in it. If any tough times come near Phillip again, he’ll raze them to the fucking ground. It’s his job to protect Phillip now.

“And if I hadn’t met you,” Phillip continues, his smile growing, “I wouldn’t have been there to see you kinda sorta starting to come out to your friends today.”

Oh, right. That. Lukas’ stomach plummets into a whirlpool of sick fear and his breath catches in his throat again. “Huh. Yeah.”

“I mean, I’m not sure they’ll get what you meant—“ 

“They’ll get it. Keith Horner saw us hugging on the roof and the rumors had already started.”

“Oh.” Phillip blinks. He scoots back slightly so he can face Lukas. “So you like, actually came out.” His eyes grow wider with every word, filling with excitement and wonder. “You came out and you told everyone we’re together.”

Shit, he looks so fucking happy. It’s enough to calm some of the storm in Lukas’ gut. This day was coming, one way or another. At least he’s taken charge—kind of sort of accidentally—and impressed the hell out of Phillip. He should really just let them bask in it.

“I don’t think it’s gonna be like how you want it to be,” he blurts out instead. Why enjoy the moment when he can go for Lukas-style awkwardness?

“Huh?” Phillip’s delight is wiped away by a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Great. Instead of celebratory sex, he now has to explain all the deep, dark worries swimming around inside him.

“Out here.” He clenches his jaw and inhales slowly, just to make sure he still can. “It’s not like the city. It’s not gonna be some fairy tale. People are gonna make fun of us and talk shit and be jerks. Not everyone, but some people for sure. Some adults, even.” 

Phillip nods slowly. “Yeah, well, people already make fun of me and talk shit about me, so no real change there.”

“It is for me.” Lukas frees his hand from Phillip’s and sinks it into the dirt. He’ll be strong—for Phillip—but that sure as hell doesn’t mean he’s looking forward to the coming shitstorm. “It’s gonna suck.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Lukas concentrates on digging a hole in the ground, since he’s done just about the same to this conversation.

He can feel Phillip’s sad eyes on him, tracking his progress. “Then why’d you do it?” Phillip asks quietly.

Lukas snorts. “Uh, because I love you.” 

Oh, holy shit. He did not just say that out loud.

Phillip’s jaw drops open and his brows rise up so high they’re lost behind the flop of hair on his forehead.

So…yeah. He’s said it out loud. Perfect.

That sort of shit is supposed to be said in the right moment. And romantically, like it’s super important and meaningful…not with the same tone of voice he uses to say things like _duh._

Phillip closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His lips tremble slightly. “Wh-what?”

Well, the damage has been done, obviously, and backing out now would only make it worse. “I love you?” Lukas repeats, only this time it comes out as a question. As in, _is that okay? Because that’s how it is._

Phillip launches forward, tackling him to the ground and pinning him with a frantic kiss. His fingers scramble around in the soil until they lock onto Lukas’ and stay there, leaving them pressed together from head to toe.

Their lips are still touching as he speaks. “I love you, too, Lukas. I love you.”

And _that’s_ how you were supposed to say it. With those shining eyes and in that breathless voice. Because hearing those words, that way, made all of Lukas’ insides melt into a puddle of sappy this-is-the-best-moment-of-my-life goop.

Shit, he’s so sapped up he might even cry. A couple of swallows fixes that, luckily, and he manages a shaky smile. “Bet you didn’t think I’d say it first.”

Phillip falls back onto him with another kiss. “You didn’t. I said it first, at the hospital. Before your dad kinda walked in on me kissing you.”

“What?” Well that was slightly terrifying—that his father might’ve known Phillip loved him before he did. “That doesn’t count. I was in a coma!”

“Not my fault you were lazing around like sleeping beauty.” 

“And what, you were trying to help with true love’s kiss?”

“Oh my God, you’re such a dork, Lukas.” 

He can’t let that slide, so he rolls over quickly, taking Phillip with him. Now he’s on top, staring down at the perfect picture that is a laughing Phillip. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Phillip grins up at him, and Lukas’ whole world is in that lopsided smile. There’ll be shitty days, sure, but if at the end of them Phillip can look up at him like this, like he’s actually _someone_ , then fuck everything else. 

He loves Phillip Shea. Phillip Shea loves him. That’s all there is to it. 

He kisses Phillip, long and deep. It makes his legs turn to rubber, and by the way Phillip can only half open his eyes when they’re through, it’s probably doing about the same to him.

“You still wanna go to that party at Simone’s?” Lukas asks, only because he’s pretty damn sure of the answer. “We can if you want.”

“Some other time.” Phillip draws him back in for another tongue-twisting kiss. “Right now, I think I just want to be alone with you. That okay?”

“Hell yes.” Even with all he’s screwed up, he’s played enough cards right to wind up here. With Phillip in his arms, with sex and cuddling and more lazy moments spent kissing in a sunny field to look forward to. It’s almost like he’s got everything figured out.

“Besides, Helen and Gabe want you over for dinner. Said something about explaining ground rules to us or something?”

“Ew, seriously?” Well, almost figured out. “Screw that. Let’s go to the barn instead.” And just in case his message isn’t clear enough, he presses into Phillip’s groin until he gets a reaction—from both of them. Hell, maybe the field is safe enough for a little action.

“Okay, okay.” Phillip wiggles out from under him, cheeks flush. “First one to the bike gets to drive!”

“What? No way!”

He gives Phillip a head start—he has the keys, after all—before taking a deep, full breath of sweet spring air and racing after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. Hope a few readers enjoyed it. Sorry for the long wait for the end-- endings are a struggle, and I started a new job.
> 
> Still looking for a beta reader/writing partner for original fiction...or just anyone who wants to talk about writing, maybe...this has been a quieter fandom than I'm used to.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr http://withoutbringingmedreams.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'm also looking for a beta for an original fic, if anyone would be so kind :)


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